


The Place Where It All Began

by AureliaBlack90



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost Dramionarry But Not Quite, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Godric's Hollow, Harmony & Co Advent Collection, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Jealous Harry Potter, Light Angst, Post-War, Sexy Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AureliaBlack90/pseuds/AureliaBlack90
Summary: Hermione arrives at the Ministry’s Annual Yule Gala on Christmas Eve with Draco Malfoy on her arm, determined to make Harry jealous and push him to confirm the romantic connection between them. Will Harry take the bait, or will it all blow up in Hermione’s face?





	The Place Where It All Began

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this piece and am pretty happy with how it turned out! It ended up being quite a bit longer than expected, so I hope everyone enjoys the extra length. There is a lemony scene with Hermione and Draco - but don't worry, it is still endgame Harmony. Thank you to both Lil Miss Gryffinpuff and AlexandraO for beta reading and for all the encouraging feedback!

_Harry’s POV_

Harry leaned casually against a long, gleaming bar top, observing the crowd milling about, and only half listening to the conversation he’d been dragged into. He was dressed in his nicest dress robes—which he hated, and was sipping his second glass of top-tier firewhiskey — which he loved, so there was at least one thing going for him.

 

The atrium, which usually felt domineering and cold in all its black tiled glory, had been transformed into an elegant winter wonderland for the Ministry’s Annual Yule Gala. The walls and ceiling had been draped with velvety fabrics in shades of light gold, blush, and ivory. Giant Evergreens had been decorated in white lights and glittering gold ribbons, and hundreds of candles floated overhead to give off the perfect amount of ambient light. Music and the clinking of glasses filtered through the din of conversation as people toasted to _friendship_ and _romance_ and to _Christmas Eve_ and all manner of obnoxious things that Harry was incredibly sick of.

 

Of course, being bitter and jealous and having an impending migraine did nothing to help him get into the holiday spirit. He clutched his highball glass still half full of amber liquid, tipped it back and quickly hailed the bartender for a refill. He normally didn’t drink much at these events, but had immediately needed something to take the edge off upon seeing Hermione enter the room, in _that_ dress, and on _Malfoy’s_ arm no less.

 

She was not his, so Harry knew he couldn’t justify the jealous rage that bloomed inside of him. But the way she was gripping Malfoy’s arm, the way the entire room seemed to freeze as they gazed upon her beauty...it made him nearly sick with envy.

 

Hermione always looked beautiful, even classy nowadays, so Harry should not have been surprised at her jaw-dropping entrance. She had ditched standard wizarding attire early on in her career as an attorney, favoring pencil skirts and silk blouses, blazers and pumps. It had been quite the scandal in the beginning, but before long she had became a fashion icon, using her unique platform as ⅓ of the Golden Trio to normalize aspects of muggle culture that Wizarding Britain had never understood. It was not uncommon for her newest looks to be featured in Witch Weekly, and many modern witches now sported both work and evening attire that was distinctly muggle. They had even done an expose on Hermione earlier that year in celebration of her thirtieth birthday, titled, “Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving: Hermione Granger’s rise to the top as the youngest Chief Prosecutor in history, and why she loves being Fabulously Single”.

 

So no, it should not have been a shock that Hermione Granger entered the Gala looking gorgeous as all hell. He had seen her in a million different cocktail dresses and evening gowns, a prerequisite for the obscene number of events they had to attend for their respective careers. But tonight, she did not just look classy, or beautiful, or edgy, or any of the other names she had been called in Witch Weekly.

 

She looked angelic.

 

She wore a radiant, blush-colored A-Line tulle evening gown with a long sweeping train —  a style he had yet to see her wear. The blush offset her skin perfectly, and the neckline of the gown plunged in a deep V past her breast bone. The thin fabric of the bodice was opaque, and was delicately adorned with ivory appliqués. They seemed to slide and shimmer across her skin, and Harry suspected that they were magically enhanced to move as she did. The lace covered that which would be deemed inappropriate to completely bare, and although the thinness of the fabric left little to the imagination, she still carried herself with an air of poised mystery. The bodice was molded to her like a second skin, and the delicate ribbon at her waist accentuated her beautiful curves.  The lace appliqués continued down the tulle of the skirt, gliding in swirls across the dress as she walked.

 

Harry would never admit it, but he had spent an inordinate amount of time trolling all of the Witch Weekly features over the last year, saving his favorite issues in a hidden drawer of his desk. He had somehow picked up a bit of fashion sense along the way, and he had to admit that this outfit was daring, even for her.

 

All her scars were on display — the deep blue lighting that shot across her chest and shoulders; the angry, red letters carved into her arm. She rarely worked to cover them up, but they were not usually exposed so deliberately. He knew it was a shock to the partygoers to see Hermione Granger’s battle wounds so blatantly displayed. Harry supposed that some may say it made her look weak, or vulnerable.

 

But Harry would have disagreed.

 

She had never before looked more beautiful or more striking than she did while showcasing her scars to the world. She exuded power in her every movement, magical energy emanating from her tanned skin. She was magnetic.

 

He watched her mingling, hanging on Malfoy’s arm, sipping champagne, laughing the evening away. Normally he would have sought her out, but not tonight. Tonight he hid behind the bureaucrats trying to schmooze him and worked to stay out of her sight. He couldn’t face her; not when she was with someone else, clearly having worn such a jaw-dropping outfit for another man.

 

He watched them dance, her skin glowing in the candlelight. He had never seen her body so elegantly yet sensually displayed. The fabric of her skirts opened as she swung around the dance floor, a dangerously high slit revealing one gorgeously toned leg.  

 

As the evening wore on, he only grew more and more angry at the sight of Malfoy touching her. He had no objection to Draco personally, as they had worked together for a number of years in both the Auror Department and in Magical Law Enforcement. Through the years they had become close friends, and although they saw each other less at work now that Harry had been promoted to Deputy Director of the Magical Law Department, they saw plenty of each other after hours. Harry thought it may have been less gut wrenching to see Hermione with Draco if he had still been an enemy. To know that Draco was a decent man, and actually stood a chance with her, was absolutely brutal.

 

Harry stayed at the bar, out of the way, greeting people as needed but not truly participating in the celebration. Hermione and Draco continued to dance, his former partner and his best friend seeming to hit it off. They seemed so familiar with each other, so relaxed in each others arms, could it be possible this was not their first date? Had Draco been seeing Hermione without his knowledge?

 

Draco brushed his lips against Hermione’s temple repeatedly through the night. He gripped her hips, and he ran his hands up her bare back and neck. Harry catalogued every touch, every smile shared between the two. They appeared happy, the perfect couple. Bitterness and envy threatened to physically choke him.

 

Had he really imagined the touches him and Hermione had shared over the last several months? Could he have completely imagined her flirtations? He didn’t understand how he could have read her so utterly and completely wrong.

 

Finally, Harry had to look away. As an intense feeling of nausea rolled through him, he decided to head to the restroom to escape seeing her angelic face smiling at someone else, if only for a minute.

 

****

_Hermione & Draco’s POV _

Draco saw Harry leave the bar and head towards a distant hallway, which lead to a lesser used employee restroom and lounge area. He suspected that Harry was looking for some privacy away from the crowds, and quickly ushered Hermione off the dance floor so that they could follow him.

 

He had a new plan.

 

“Was he really watching, Draco?” She asked. He had assured her that Harry’s eyes had yet to leave her since their entrance, but she had been too afraid to look for herself. They had been laying it all on a bit thick, trying to get a rise out of him. Draco laughed.

 

“ _Yes_ , Hermione, he was definitely watching you.” He assured her again, giving her a once over. Hermione simply scoffed at the leer on his face.

“But he didn’t even bother to come say hi!” She protested.

“Granger, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The only reason he didn’t try to greet us is because he’s fucking _pissed_ that you came with me. This crazy plan of yours _might_ just actually work.”

“Really? You think so?” She replied, a hint of excitement scraping through her anxiety.

“Do you think he’ll come and tell you off?” They continued on their way through the crowds and finally headed down the hallway he was sure Harry had gone down.

“Well, I think that he might need a little more incentive. But don’t worry love, I’ve got an idea”

“What more could we possibly do? Wait, where are we -”

 

Draco stopped suddenly and pushed her into an alcove just around the corner from the lounge, where he knew Harry would see them once he exited. It was a little used hallway and unlikely that anyone else would come across them.

 

“Draco!” She hissed, glaring at him, “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to get Potter’s arse in gear, that’s what.” Draco whispered harshly, pushing her up against the cold tile wall. He fluffed her skirt up so that it poofed out into the hallway, impossible to miss to anyone that might walk by.

“Draco! This was not part of the plan!” She argued in a stage whisper.

“Well, he clearly needs a stronger nudge, Hermione. I’ve been practically groping you all night and he doesn’t seem to be any closer to doing anything. Now be a good girl, and put your hands around my neck!” Draco whispered back, digging his thumbs into her hip bones.

 

“Fine.” Hermione responded with a saccharine smile. She delicately placed her hands on his shoulders and then stomped as hard as she could on his right foot. Draco let out a silent howl of pain before grabbing her wrists and forcing them above her head. He glared at her as she struggled slightly under his grasp.

 

“That is _enough_ , I’m trying to help you, woman! Stop struggling!”

 

“Make me!” She shot back. Draco raised an eyebrow at her before lifting her wrists higher up the wall so that she was balancing on her tiptoes. He pressed his body impossibly close to hers and she could suddenly feel his cock pressing insistently against her thigh. Her eyes widened in surprise, but all he did was meet her gaze steadily.

 

“Draco!” squeaked.

“What? You didn’t expect me to just lie down and roll over, were you?” He breathed into her ear and Hermione’s breath caught in her lungs. He began to leave feather light kisses along her jaw.

“Draco, you must be joking…” Her breath hitched when he found a particularly delicious spot on her throat. “You know that I…I mean… Harry…” Hermione paused, pleading, hoping against hope that he wasn’t suddenly admitting feelings for her.

 

“Relax, Hermione. I’m not _in love with you_ or something, and I wouldn’t dream of trying to compete with Potter,” He chided, chuckling softly. He rubbed his thumbs against her wrists, pressing his cock against her warm cunt. Hermione let out a soft hiss between her teeth.

 

“But if you think I’m going to miss out on the chance to snog the most beautiful woman here tonight, after holding her in my arms all evening, you’d be sorely mistaken.” His roguish grin returned, and he pressed his lips insistently against hers.

 

Hermione knew that Draco Malfoy had grown up into an attractive man, but it was more of an abstract knowledge than anything else. He had been an enemy in childhood, then a coworker, and had been a close friend for a number of years. She had seen him date volleys of women, never really interested in settling down. She saw the way women fawned over him, and thought it hilarious when his flavor of the week was jealous of her relationship with him, just like they’d always been jealous of her and Harry.

 

But she had never looked at Draco that way. Despite her only having recently discovered the torch she had been carrying for Harry for years, it had apparently blinded her to other men since adolescence.

 

After yet another failed relationship had come and gone, and after yet another man had told her that she was clearly in love with Harry Potter, she decided that maybe she should try giving it some thought. And she had not liked what she discovered. Or perhaps she had liked what she discovered- depending on how you looked at her years of repressed feelings and denial.

 

So despite the immensely long time it had taken her to accept, she had finally admitted it to herself.

 

She was in love with Harry Potter.

 

She hadn’t seen anyone else since her discovery over a year previous,  purposefully staying available. It took her some more time to finally begin blatantly flirting with him and leaving hints, in the hopes that he would make the first move. Not that she had any problem with making the first move, but come on — it was Harry. Her best friend. It had to be him to move first.

 

Unfortunately for her, Harry seemed to be completely unaware of the signals she had been dropping, and by the time Christmas had rolled back around, she had begun to get desperate. It was time to give him one last push, to see if he really did love her the way she loved him.

 

So she’d gone to Draco, who had gamely agreed to see if they couldn’t make Potter jealous. He had been quite eager, in fact. The two of them may have been close friends, but their rivalry had never truly died. It was just more friendly than it had been at Hogwarts.

 

So no, Hermione had never spent much time thinking about Draco’s attractiveness. But, Merlin, it was immediately clear that he knew how to kiss.

 

Hermione moaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against hers. The caress of his lips and tongue felt slow and heavy, like the heat that was slowly creeping up within her.

 

Hermione had already been turned on, her arousal already seeping onto her thighs even before Draco had led her into the hallway. The sheer fabric that had been rubbing against her nipples, and the way her skirts had swished elegantly against her legs all night had left her feeling sensual. Combined with all of the champagne she had consumed, and the thought of Harry seeing her dolled up, wanting her, jealous of another’s attentions… it was no surprise to her that she was worked up. So she welcomed Draco’s kisses, even though he wasn’t the one she truly wanted. Sound judgement had gone out the window after her third flute of champagne.

 

In comparison to the hard grip he had on her wrists, his lips felt soft and sweet against her own. He pulled back and began licking and sucking his way along her collarbone and up to her ear.

 

“How would you like it if Harry joined us, Hermione?” Hermione shivered, his words like honey sliding down her spine. Draco could tell that she enjoyed his words and was encouraged to continue, curious to see how far she would let him go.

 

“How would you like it if you were sandwiched between the two of us, his cock pressed against your arse, mine against your cunt?” Hermione was completely floored and unconsciously arched into his touch. A hot spark of desire shot through her at the imagery he began to paint for her.

 

“Or maybe,” he whispered, “Harry would like to take you from behind while you wrap those delicious lips around my cock?” He laved his tongue against her pulse point and dropped her hands so that he could rub her hardened nipples between his fingertips. Hermione pressed her palms against the cool tile of the wall behind her, trying to ground herself.

 

“I bet Harry would love to eat that pretty pussy of yours while I fuck you in the arse. Do you think he’d enjoy licking your dripping cunt?” Hermione whimpered. She could feel herself melting into a puddle of liquid desire.

 

“I bet he would love to watch me twisting your nipples while he eats you out.” Draco pinched her hardened nipples unexpectedly and Hermione just barely stopped a cry from escaping from her lips.

 

“We could always just ask him if you’d like?” Draco whispered before pressing his lips against hers once more, hard and demanding this time. Her eyes had drifted closed ages ago, reveling in the fantasy Draco had composed for her. He finally released her but continued to caress her nipples. Hermione was about to inquire as to what he was doing, when he begin to speak.

 

But this time, he spoke not to her - but to someone else.

 

Her eyes shot open in horror.

 

****

_Harry’s POV_

Harry finally exited the lounge. While having a smoke, he had decided he should just give the whole thing up as a bad job and leave. He was no less angry than before, but he knew that if he caused some sort of public scene, the media fallout would be horrendous, and he would regret having to deal with that in the morning. Not to mention Hermione would have his balls if he ruined a date she was on, regardless of who it was with.

 

He had to have imagined the signals he thought he was getting from her. If she had actually been interested in him romantically, why would she show up, clearly smitten with Draco Malfoy?

 

So he strode down the hall, hell bent on making a quick escape, when he heard odd sounds coming from an alcove up ahead. Whispers, whines, heavy breathing. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something wasn’t right — so he proceeded forward until he saw a hint of blush tulle cascading out into the hallway.

 

He slowed down, a warning bell going off in his head, but continued on until the couple had come fully in to his view.

 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure which emotion was more prominent: anger at seeing Hermione pressed so intimately against another man, or arousal at the way she was so wantonly displayed.

 

Time seemed to slow down as he saw Draco whisper in her ear and run his tongue along her neck. Her head tilted back to rest against the wall behind her, and her mouth hung open as a stifled cry escaped her lips. His eyes passed over the length of her body, watching intently as Draco twisted and tugged on her breasts. Her curls had fallen out of her updo and her back was beautifully arched, her leg completely emerging from the slit in her skirts. The opening clearly went all the way to her waist, and she had her leg wrapped around Draco, pulling him tightly against her. Draco pressed his lips against hers urgently and she met his demand with returned furor.

 

She was exquisite.

 

Harry vaguely registered that he really must have had too much to drink — he normally would never have stood there gaping at them, half hidden in the shadowy hallway.

 

Suddenly, Draco pulled away from Hermione and looked directly at him, as though he had known Harry had been standing there the entire time. Hermione remained unaware of his presence as Draco continued to caress her nipples, and Draco quirked an eyebrow at him as Hermione pushed further into his hands. It was an even bigger shock when Draco spoke to him, alerting Hermione to Harry’s presence.

 

“You know, Potter, you’re more than welcome to join us. She’s practically gagging for it as it is, so there’s no need to just stand there and watch. Unless that’s your thing, of course.” Draco winked.

 

All Harry could do was remain frozen. The alcohol, the rage, and his want of her mingled together, creating an intense pressure in his chest —  like his heart was about to explode. At the sight of Malfoy’s wide smirk, he was suddenly overcome with the need to flee. He unconsciously felt his empty glass fall out of his grasp. It clunked sharply against the tile, rolling loudly - and awkwardly - down the hall.

 

He found Hermione’s wide eyes, and their gazes locked. For an indeterminable moment, all of the years of missed opportunities, all the need and all the desire that had built up between them rested heavily in the air. He memorized her swollen lips and her flushed cheeks, her white-knuckled hands fisted in her skirts, her skin glittering in the torch light. He captured the image of her in his mind to hold there forever, convinced he would never truly get that piece of her; the piece she had put on display for Draco, but not for him.

 

He wondered what she would do if he took Draco up on his offer. What would she do if instead of leaving, or punching Draco square in the jaw like he wanted to, he stepped up and kissed those beautifully swollen lips?

 

But in the end, it wasn’t the lascivious invitation Draco had made that chased him off, or even the rock that had settled in his stomach at Hermione being wantonly on display.

 

It was her stricken face that sent him running.

 

Stricken at him finding her there with someone else? Stricken to be seen in such a compromising position? Whatever it was, he was clearly not the one she wanted.

 

****

_Hermione & Draco’s POV _

Hermione watched Harry storm off in the opposite direction of the atrium and tears began to well up in her eyes. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself, and realized that Draco’s hands had continued to roam her body through the entire encounter. She gave him an angry shove and he took a step back, shooting her an amused look. Hermione was immediately furious — how could he not be taking this seriously?! Her entire night had culminated in a complete disaster!

 

“ _Gagging for it_ , Malfoy?!” She seethed.

 

Hermione advanced towards him and raised a hand, hell bent on slapping him straight across the face; but unfortunately for her, Draco had experience being slapped by Hermione Granger. Quick as a flash he grabbed her wrists and pinned her once more against the wall. He looked down at her, his expression bordering on hostile.

 

“You should know better than to raise a hand to me, Granger,” his voice dangerously low. “That may have worked when we were kids, but we are not children anymore. I know you’re angry that Potter didn’t take the bait, but this was _your_ idea, and I agreed to help you, _as a friend,_ so stop treating me like the enemy here!”

 

“Well, _this…THIS_ ”, she ripped her arms out his grasp and gestured violently between the two of them, “Was _NOT_ part of my plan! And I was not _gagging_ for anything.” She stomped a foot in anger, even as heat rose up in her cheeks.

Draco allowed her a little space but remained close.

“Hate to break it to you Granger, but _your_ version of the plan was _not working_ . I can guarantee you he was about to go home and continue sulking. I honestly don’t understand why you felt the need to orchestrate this little ruse in the first place. And we’ll agree to disagree on whether or not you were _gagging_ for it.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, as if challenging her to disagree again.

 

Hermione’s glare returned.

 

“I just wanted him to show a little interest, alright?! I’ve been leaving hints for 6 bloody months and _nothing!”_ She threw her hands up in the air in a huff before hanging her head. “Maybe I should just accept that things are never going to happen between us. It might be time to just give up.”

 

Her shoulders slumped, and Draco could tell that that tears were beginning to well up in her eyes. He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him.

 

“Hermione, Harry is _crazy_ about you. Has been since age 11, I suspect.” Hermione hiccuped and a laugh of disbelief escaped her lips.

“But how can you be sure? I wanted to provoke some sort of reaction tonight and all I’ve done is make things unbearably awkward between the two of us. He probably thinks I fancy _you_ now!”

“Well, could anyone blame you? I’m quite fanciable”  Draco winked exaggeratedly. Hermione shoved him in the shoulder.

“Merlin, woman,” He complained, but she simply maintained her fierce expression, despite the tears that were still leaking from the corners of her eyes. Draco visibly softened.

"Seriously, love, I’m sure we’ve caused quite a stir among your adoring public. It’s been obvious for quite some time that you and Harry are in love with each other, so they aren’t going to know what to do with _us_ being here together tonight. It’s no secret to anyone that he’s head over heels for you.”

 

Hermione remained still for a second longer before her body sagged and she was wracked with sobs. Draco immediately gathered her in his arms and shushed her comfortingly.

 

“Hermione, it’s going to be fine. Take a deep breath please, there you go, that’s a good girl.” He continued to rock her gently as she calmed down. At last her tears had subsided and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered. “Merlin, I haven’t cried like that since... I don’t know when. It’s just… all the champagne, and the….” She stuttered, “the playacting….” She paused and looked at him a bit sheepish, “and the kissing….” Draco laughed.

“Flustered you, did I?” He joked.

“For fuck’s sake, Draco, that’s an understatement.” She rolled her eyes theatrically . She sighed heavily and looked down.

“But, honestly….What am I supposed to do now?” She buried her face in his chest. “I feel like I should just go crawl into bed and never come out.”

“I know this might sound crazy, but have you thought about maybe just talking to him?” He smiled ruefully. Hermione groaned and slumped boneless against him.  

“A Slytherin, telling me that honesty and direct communication is the best policy? Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?”

 

Draco laughed and shook his head. “Clearly I’ve been spending too much time around you Gryffindors. All that openness and morality bullshit has apparently been rubbing off on me.”

 

Hermione scoffed. “Morality is for the birds, haven’t you heard? How the _fuck_ am I supposed to face him now?! He just caught me making out with you, pressed up against a public hallway like a…like a trollop!”

Draco snickered.

“A trollop, huh? You mean you’re not truly just a _bad_ girl, dying to be fucked in a public hallway?” He eyed her knowingly as her cheeks heated up. He stepped closer to her and ran a finger down her arm. In love with Potter she may be, but he knew there was a whole lot of kink underneath her layers or propriety that was just dying to be uncovered.

 

“You know, we can easily make that happen, if you’d like Granger. You may not be easy, but _I_ certainly am.” He reached up to tweak one of her nipples again, but she swatted him away.

“Draco, no! Stop trying to distract me!” She attempted to look scandalized, but Draco knew she was sorely tempted.

“OK, OK, I’ll stop.” He put his hands up in surrender, backed farther away and leaned against the wall, watching her as she began to pace. “Where’s all that idiotic, courageous nonsense you Lions are always spouting off about, anyway?”

“I don’t know…I used it all up going on a date with _you._ ” She fixed him with yet another glare.

“Look Granger, just go talk to him. Come here, I’ll fix you up.”

She slumped over to him and with a wave of his wand, her hair was done up and her makeup was perfect once more. She stretched her neck, shook her hands out, and straightened her spine as if preparing for battle.

Draco leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“Now after you two kiss and make up, make sure to ask Potter about our earlier discussion.” His smirk had returned. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What discussion?”

“You _do_ want to make all your threesome fantasies come true, don’t you, Granger?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to hide the blush that had made a reappearance. Draco laughed; no matter how she tried to hide it he knew she was intrigued.

“Actually, why not just cut straight to the three-way proposal? How could he possibly say no?” He hollered at her retreating back.

Hermione flipped him the bird over her shoulder before rounding the corner out of Draco’s sight. She felt reinvigorated after Draco’s assurances, (and her slight breakdown), and was more determined than ever to finally get what she wanted.

Harry Fucking Potter wasn’t going to know what hit him.

 

***

_Harry’s POV_

Harry headed to his office, intent on using his personal floo to get home. It was a bit of a walk through the ministry, but it was better than going back through the atrium where he would no doubt be accosted by a slew of people that he had no interest in dealing with. When he got to the DMLE and Auror offices, he checked in with the on-duty staff and answered some questions before making his way over to his large corner office, complete with mahogany desk, fireplace and built in bookshelves. One of the few perks that came with being Deputy Director of the MLE; something to offset the long hours and huge amount of responsibility that came with the position. He had a stack of memos and mail waiting for him of course, even though he had only been out of the office for a few hours.

 

He lit a fire in the grate and decided to just stay and get some work done. The fire quickly warmed his office and cast a congenial glow around the room, and Harry relaxed back into his high backed leather chair. It may have been Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t as if he had anyone waiting for him at home. This was as good a place as any to drown his sorrow in work and more fire-whiskey.

 

He had only just gotten started when he heard the ominous click clacking of a pair of extremely high-heeled stilettos approaching his office.

 

Something rose up inside him at the sound. Anger, or perhaps anticipation, he couldn’t have been sure.

 

He heard a knock on the heavy wooden door. It was such a Hermione-ish knock that there was no doubt in his mind as to who it was. Harry gave no answer, but she simply opened up the door and let herself in anyway. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly have dragged her out of that cozy alcove, away from her date, and all the way up to his office. She shut the door firmly behind her, and waved a hand in the direction of the door as she turned to face him.

 

He heard the lock click shut, and felt the magic of the silencing charm she had cast settle around them. Her wordless and wandless abilities never ceased to impress.

 

The firelight cast shadows upon her face and he couldn’t quite get a read on the expression that lay there. Her body was rigid, however, and her shoulders were taut with unease. She stood several paces from the desk, stock still and looking at him for a moment before moving to stand closer to the fire. He observed her rather rigid movements, her hands anxiously fiddling with her skirts and her hair. He caught just a glimpse of a scowl upon her face before she turned her back to him to face the fire. Her hands came to rest on her hips: defensive; aggressive.

 

In the Atrium she had appeared luminous under all the candlelight; fairy-like and joy-filled as Draco had whisked her around the dance floor.

 

In the dark alcove, she had seemed free and out of control; ethereal and pleasure ridden as Draco had plucked and played her body like an instrument.

 

But here in his office, she seemed taut and tightly wound, prepared for a fight. Fierce in indignation, strong in her own skin, standing sentry for whatever was about to pass between them. Yet he found her no less luminous or ethereal in disposition.

 

They remained silent, her back turned to him, waiting for the other to speak. He vaguely appreciated the sharp jut of her shoulder blades and the slope of her back. The opaque fabric of the bodice came into an even deeper v in the back than in the front, and showcased the lithe muscles that rippled under her skin. He watched her, hoping that she would speak first, so that he could get some sort of read on just how angry she was that he had been watching her and Draco together. Unfortunately, she appeared happy to simply stand there torturing him.

 

Finally, Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“What can I do for you, Hermione?” He asked her in the most formal, professional voice that he could muster up. It was the voice he used for interviews, for interrogations, for political schmoozing. But it was never a voice he had ever had to use with Hermione.

 

“Well Harry, I was hoping you could clarify a few things for me, actually.” Hermione  finally turned to him, and her face was cast in sharp relief.

 

Her lips were still swollen, and although a glamour had been cast to fix her makeup, he could still clearly see that she had been crying. The rest of what he had read in her body was visible in her face — the indignation; the battle-readiness.

 

Hermione’s tear stained cheeks would normally be enough to stop him short, but he was currently too angry at her to care that she had was upset.

 

If it was a fight she had come looking for, it was a fight she was going to get.

 

“Whatever you think you need clarification on, Hermione, I’m sure that _Draco_ would be more than capable of helping you with it.” He looked down at his desk and began shuffling some papers around, in order to busy his hands.

 

“It’s not Draco’s help that I need tonight, Harry.”

 

Harry scoffed.

 

“He certainly seemed up to the task to me. Why don’t you leave me in peace and get back to...” He flicked his hand at her, not willing to put words to the scene he had stumbled upon. “There was no need to stop on _my_ account.” Hoping she would take the hint and leave, he continued to shuffle papers and kept his eyes down.

 

“Well, he wasn’t _really_ my date, and it’s not him that I have questions for.”

 

Harry’s eyes bugged and he was suddenly even more cross than before. He looked up at her with disdain.

 

“Oh, my mistake. I didn’t realize that you let just _anyone_ fuck you in ministry hallways these days. Clearly I should have guessed he wasn’t your _date._ Thanks for the _clarification”_

 

Hermione held up a hand in protest and raised her voice.

 

“First of all, Harry, Draco and I were not _fucking_ -“

 

She had approached his desk in order to tower over him in his chair, but he refused to be cowed. He stood up unexpectedly and cut her off mid sentence, causing her to hastily step backwards.

 

“Well maybe he wasn’t fucking you _yet_ , but can you deny you would have let him if I hadn’t interrupted?!” Harry shouted.

 

“Of course I can!” She protested loudly.

 

“Oh really, Hermione? So you _don’t_ go around letting random blokes fuck you whenever they fancy an easy lay? You could have fooled me!” Harry roared. He had continued to advance upon her until they were practically nose to nose. She stood her ground, and just as the last words rushed from his lips, she slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

 

He clearly did not have the practice that Draco had for dodging slaps; although to be fair, Draco had a bit more experience. Harry’s head whipped to the side and he stumbled back in surprise, his hand immediately cupping his cheek. He turned and fixed her with a glare full of the anger that had been welling up inside of him all evening.

 

“What the bloody fuck was _that_ for, Granger?” He growled, his eyes dark.

 

Not intimidated by his bravado, she glowered right back at him.

 

“What the fuck do you _think_ it was for Potter?!” She screeched. “You don’t get to just call me an easy-“

 

“Well YOU don’t get to just bloody slap me!” He shouted.

 

Hermione jabbed a finger in his chest.

“Harry James Potter! I. Am. Not. _Finished_ ” She jabbed his chest with each word. “ You do not get to harass me and call me a slut just because _you’re_ bloody jealous and can’t admit it to me!”

 

Harry gulped and turned around, completely taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to say the actual words, though he bloody should have. When had Hermione ever hesitated to call him out? He stalked back over to his desk, slammed his hands on the surface, his shoulders hunched.

 

He breathed in deeply, steadying himself. Apparently she had known about his interest, and has _still_ chosen to attend the gala with Malfoy. That was a tough pill to swallow. Hermione took an equally deep breath from somewhere behind him, and he heard her clunking around at the bar cart, undoubtedly pouring herself a drink.

 

“Let’s back up, please.” She finally said, after a long period of silence. “I know you didn’t mean it, because you know better than most that I do not sleep around. And even if I _did_ , do you _really_ think tonight is the night for a discussion of our sexual histories?” He could hear in her voice that she had an eyebrow raised. He heard the threat — that she wouldn’t hesitate to bring up his own indiscretions if he continued to push the subject.

 

“I know you’re angry, Harry, but let’s not waste any more time with pointless accusations, alright?”

 

Harry’s fingers curled into fists upon the wooden desktop, but he forced himself to continue to breath.

 

“Now, I’m going to be honest with you, if you agree to be honest with me. Can you do that?”

 

As she spoke, her voice had simmered down to something softer, less aggressive. He thought for a long moment. He had wanted to avoid this conversation — him having to admit to his love of her only to be rejected. But if it was what she needed for them to remain friends, he would lay down his pride and do it.

 

If he couldn’t have the Hermione that had danced under the candlelight, or the Hermione that had moaned and writhed under Draco’s hands in that dark alcove, then he would take whatever pieces she allowed him to have.

 

He nodded his head slowly in agreement, although he continued to stare at the desk, unable to look at her. He felt for sure that she was about to tell him she was off the market - that her and Draco were together. He had made a total fool of himself; it was not him that she wanted.

 

There was a pregnant pause as she took a breath and he waited for the ax to fall.

 

“I am not seeing Draco Malfoy, Harry. I asked him to come with me tonight as a favor, just a favor, not as a date.”

 

Harry straightened up immediately. Hope began to bloom within him, but he still didn’t turn around to look at her.

 

Not a date? That didn’t make any sense.

 

“It…wasn’t... a date?” He asked softly.

 

“No, not a date, Harry. I was honest, so now it’s your turn.”

 

“If it wasn’t a date, then what was it?” He gulped, anxiously awaiting her answer.

 

“Were you jealous of Draco tonight, Harry?” She finally asked, choosing to ignore his question.

 

Harry closed his eyes, unable to move a muscle. How could he possibly respond to that?

 

Hermione sighed.

 

“I need you to answer me, Harry,” she demanded, her voice firm and begging no argument. “Were you angry tonight because you were jealous that Draco was with me? Or because of something else?”

 

He finally whirled around to face her and threw up his arms in desperation.

 

“Yes! Yes, ok? I was jealous! Jealous that you came tonight with Malfoy, jealous that you were with him in the hallway!” He let out a low growl as the memory resurfaced once more. He flopped back down at his desk and put his head in his hands.

 

“So, now you know. I’m pathetic. You’re with Malfoy, I’ll get over it. Please kindly escort yourself out and we can pretend this never happened.” He stared down at the stack of mail on his desk, not truly seeing anything. He expected to hear her heading for the door, or else leaving through his floo. After all, what else was there to say?

 

But instead, he heard soft footsteps approaching him. He clunked his forehead on the desk.

 

“Just go away, Hermione.” He pleaded.

 

“No, Harry. I won’t go away.” She replied softly. She placed a hand gently on his back. “Look at me, please?”

 

He slowly turned his head towards her, and expected to see pity in her eyes. But what he saw surprised him.

 

A coy smile had bloomed across her face, and her eyes were lit up.

 

He allowed himself to be swiveled around, and lead over to the armchair in front of the fire. His eyes never left hers, searching for answers. He let Hermione push him back into the armchair, and she took a step backwards. He expected for her to sit in the other chair to continue their conversation, but she didn’t. Instead, she slowly backed away from him a few paces, sensually moving her hips, her leg once more peeking out of the slit in her skirt. She began to fiddle with the bow at the back of her dress, and Harry suddenly filled with anticipation.

 

“You see Harry, you needn’t have been jealous of Draco. Although that _was_ what I was going for. I guess we played our parts a little _too_ well tonight.” She smiled ruefully and held the bow in one hand, while she flicked her hand in a downwards motion in front of her body.

 

With the sweep of her hand, she had lifted some sort of charm from the bodice of her dress. Now, rather than omitting an opaque sheen, the material had become completely sheer. Translucent except for the appliqués that covered her nipples, he could suddenly see the rest of the jagged blue scar that stretched down between her breasts and all the way to her belly button. The swell of her breasts were completely bared to him for the first time, and his mouth was suddenly dry.

 

He audibly gulped.

 

“You needn’t have been jealous, Harry, because….” She took a deep breath. “Well, because I didn’t wear this for Draco. I wore this for _you”._

 

She met his gaze and dropped the hand that had held the untied bow of her skirts. The material suddenly fell away, tumbling gracefully to the floor in a heap of luminescent tulle, and it became clear that she had not worn a ballgown at all, but a plunging bodysuit with a matching skirt over the top.

 

She stepped out of the material, careful not to tangle her stilettos in the fabric, and moved lithely towards him.

 

All that remained to cover her was the teddy, her skirts long forgotten. The same appliqué design that covered her nipples traveled down her sides, along her hip bones and covered the part of her he most wanted to see, but the rest was sheer, shimmering, barely-there fabric. It left little to the imagination, and he could see the creaminess of her skin that had been hidden by her cleverly placed charm. His eyes trailed over her body, noticing the way the twinkling fabric stretched deliciously over her stomach and hips, showcasing her hourglass figure.

 

He was speechless, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.

 

Hermione stopped several feet away from him, just far enough that he couldn’t quite reach her. With another sweep of her hand, the sticking charm holding up her curls was undone, and they fell in a cascade over her shoulders. She turned her back to him, cocking a hip and looking over her shoulder to give him a view of her back. The bodysuit had a similar deep V in the back as in the front, but there were no appliqués. Nothing to cover the curve of her perfect arse, the dimple at the base of her spine, the freckles on her right cheek.

 

Hermione flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned back to face him, a pleased look on her face. She took another step forward and picked up one of his hands, holding it in her own and stroking her thumb over the back before guiding it up along the curve of her arse, up her side, and finally to cup her breast.

 

“Do you like what you see, Harry?”

 

***

_Hermione & Harry’s POV _

From the moment that Harry had admitted to being jealous, it felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her. Hermione felt truly light for the first time in a very long time.

 

No, it was not a declaration of love, but that wasn’t what she had needed. She knew that Harry loved her. He was her best friend, and she was his. What she had needed to know was whether or not he _wanted_ her. But it was clear to her now that he very much wanted her. How could she have been so blind?

 

As she felt Harry cup her breast and run his thumb across her covered nipple, she felt a spark run up her spine and heat pool between her legs. He brought his other hand up and lightly massaged both breasts in tandem, her nipples quickly hardening under his touch. She looked down and watched him as he stared adoringly at her body, loving the thrill of power it gave her to see him rendered speechless. When he finally glanced up at her, she saw that his pupils were blown wide, his desire for her rolling off of him in waves.

 

Harry suddenly stood up, and she squealed as he almost threw her off balance. He spun her around and lightly pushed her into the chair and cupped her face in both of his large, calloused hands. His thumbs swept along her cheekbones and he caressed the back of her neck with his fingers, holding her still, looking into her eyes, searching for something.

 

In his gaze she saw the answer to every question that had been left unasked. Any remaining doubt she still harbored vanished. It was clear after a long moment of studying each other, that Harry had also found the answers he had been looking for.

 

He leaned closer until their noses were almost touching, and her eyes had nearly drifted to a close.

 

“You’re exquisite, my love,” He whispered.

 

And _finally,_ their lips met. It was everything that she had ever hoped it would be; every fantasy she had harbored about how he might someday kiss her found their culmination in the way he pressed his lips against hers. It felt like they had been kissing all of their lives, like second nature. No awkwardness, no doubt.

 

Only pleasure.

 

His tongue swept into her mouth and she moaned as he claimed her. He gripped her head tightly in his hands and drew her own tongue into his mouth, sucking it sensually between his lips. She squeezed her thighs together and pressed herself into the leather chair beneath her, desperate for some release.

 

She had been teased far too much already that evening.

 

At last Harry stopped teasing her mouth with his tongue and knelt at her feet, slipping off her stilettos. He ran his hands up her calves and over her thighs, before he tugged  her forward to sit at the edge of the seat. A giggle erupted from her lips and she breathed out a stuttering sigh as she thought of what his actions might imply.

 

Hermione moaned as he ran his hands back down to her feet and then up again, softly skimming over every inch of her legs. He placed open mouthed kisses along the inside of her knee and up her thigh, and her body hummed in anticipation. He dragged his tongue in a long line from her knee all the way up to her cunt, but refused to kiss her in the place she longed for. Harry moaned when he tasted the arousal that had already coated her thighs. He repeated the motion and she twined her fingers in his hair when he pulled back entirely.

 

“Love, what is this?” He asked. He squinted his eyes and drew closer to one of her covered hip bones.

 

Hermione’s heartbeat sped up and skidded - she had not expected to reveal her hidden tattoo to him that night, but she had accidentally undone the glamor she usually kept on it when releasing the charm from her bodysuit.

 

“Umm, well, you see-“ She squeaked out. He pulled back the seam that was covering the luminescent, golden markings etched across her hip bone.

 

Harry immediately knew what it was, and his eyes shot up to meet hers.

 

“Hermione…” He breathed out her name in awe. She couldn’t possibly understand how much this hidden treasure immediately meant to him.

 

“Well, remember that trip to Wizarding Amsterdam that Ginny, Luna and I took a few years back?” Harry nodded. “Well, we were all pretty fucked up one night, and….this was the result.”

 

Her words tumbled out in a rush. Her cheeks heated up, embarrassed at how revelatory it was that she had gotten a tattoo representing their relationship even before they had begun to flirt with one another. Perhaps if he had been included, it could have been construed as a symbol of their friendship; but just the fact that she had kept it hidden for so long was quite telling.

 

It was a glittering lighting bolt - approximately 6 inches long, traveling up her hip bone, and was an exact replica of the scar on his forehead. He rubbed his thumb over it and it sent a shockwave through her body.  He leaned in closer to read the tiny words written in curled script along one side of the bolt.

 

“novissima autem inimica destruetur mors….What does that mean, Hermione?”

 

She looked down at her lap, her hands gripping the edge of the seat, stealing herself.

 

 _It couldn’t possibly be that bad_ , he thought to himself. He stroked her sides, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.

 

Finally, after a long moment of silence, she responded.

 

“It means: The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”

 

Harry immediately thought of that cold, snowy Christmas Eve they shared together in the graveyard. They were half starved and full of fear, two children trying to take on the world. For all intents and purposes he should have been alone, but he hadn’t been. She had been with him, a beacon of light in a sea of darkness.

 

Hermione had stood by him when every one else had fallen away, and she was the one that bore witness to his pain as he gazed upon his parents’ graves for the first time.

 

They had returned they following year on Christmas Day, to commemorate the truth they had fought so hard to uncover: that no matter how bleak things may look in the night, dawn always returned.

 

Death never had the final word.

 

Ever since, they honored their tradition of returning to the graveyard at Christmas.

Hermione would place a wreath of white Christmas roses upon their headstones, and she would whisper the words to him, as a reminder that they had already defeated death in the final battle all those years ago.

 

Everything else they had been given was simply extra.

 

Harry clenched his eyes shut, overcome with his love for her. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the shimmering bolt, and breathed in the smell of her skin.

 

Hermione was his. It was written upon her body, and for the very first time, she was offering all the parts of herself to him.

 

Harry surged upwards and gripped her head in his hands, more fierce than before. He poured his love out for her in his kiss, and she responded by pushing slightly at his chest and standing up as they continued to kiss. She once more pushed him into the chair, their mouths never breaking contact.

 

She climbed up to straddle him, and as he explored her body with his hands, she ran her own along his neck and into his hair. He gripped her arse tightly for a moment before cupping her pussy, pressing his thumb against her clit. He was rewarded when she jerked and whined, desperate for more. He continued to stroke her, running his fingers softly along her covered lips, pressing lightly against her clit. He had her writhing against him in no time, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he continued to ravish her mouth.

 

Finally she broke away and buried her face into he crook of his neck, continuing to rock against him.

 

“Harry….” She whined. “Fuck, Harry! I need...” Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed against her clit once again.

 

“More?” He chuckled. “All you had to do was ask, love.” And with that he unsnapped the bottom of the teddy. He cupped her bare cunt, her lips swollen and dripping, and unwittingly his head fell back against the chair.

 

“Holy fuck, Hermione. You’re so fucking wet.” He breathed out, sliding his fingers along her folds, dipping in and out of her, reveling in the thick, creamy arousal dripping down her thighs. He slowly inserted a finger into her pussy and Hermione groaned in satisfaction. She moved to kiss him again, and slid her tongue inside his mouth in time with his finger as it slowly slid in and out of her. Hermione felt as though time had slowed in honor of their coming together, and every touch of his hand, every caress of his tongue felt limitless. He built her up, quickening his pace, but would slow every time her hips began to shake and buck.

 

“Harry, please, I need to-“

 

“When you come, I’m going to be inside you, love,” He assured her. She immediately began undoing his belt and he laughed against her lips.

 

“Seriously, Harry, I can’t take anymore. I need you!” She whined. She quickly pulled his cock out, groaning at the feel of it in in her hand, thick and hard, but silky smooth. She lowered herself closer to him, rubbed the tip of his cock against her sodden folds. She pressed her forehead against his and their eyes locked just as she lowered herself down on to him.

 

Her breath hitched as he stretched her open. She was impossibly full, but nothing had ever felt so right. She began to ride him, and his hands came to grip her hips, helping her move up and down along his hard length. Their eyes stayed locked together, emotion heavy in their chests, the urgency suddenly lost as their focus shifted to the incandescence of their long awaited coupling. Harry slid his hands up along her body as she continued to rock against him and peeled away the material that had continued to hide her luscious breasts from his eyes. He immediately leaded down and had a nipple in his mouth. As he licked and sucked, plucked at her skin and learned what made her body arch, Hermione moved her hand to rub at her clit, desperate for release.

 

Harry could tell that she was close as she began to rock against him more quickly, her breath coming out in quick bursts, her fingers flying against her clit.

 

“Harry, please,” she begged, her head hanging back, her back arched. He was happy to oblige.

 

Harry grasped her hips in his hands and pulled her down hard against him, reveling in the feel of being so deep inside of her. She cried out at the rigorous pace he set and it was only a few moments before she fell over the edge, writhing and screaming. He continued to plunge inside of her until she slumped against his chest, taking deep, calming breaths. He rubbed circles on her back and kissed her neck, tugged lightly at her curls.

 

After a few moments she roused and looked up at him, stars in her eyes. She leaned in to kiss him, shifting her hips to pull herself closer to his body. They both groaned, his cock still rock hard inside of her.

 

He ran his hands along her cheeks, once more locked into her gaze. He would never get enough of the temptress in front of him.

 

“I love you, Harry,” She whispered, a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

 

He felt wetness begin to pool in his own. Suddenly, all of the wasted years between them no longer mattered.

 

Nothing mattered now that she was in his arms.

 

“I love you too. So much.” He nuzzled his nose against hers, breathing in deep the scent of her skin, her hair, her sex. “You’ve never been so beautiful, love,” He whispered to her. She wrapped her arms around him, and moved so that she was seated fully on him in order to wrap her legs around his waist as well. Harry groaned as he sunk even deeper inside of her. Her breath caught once more at the pressure on her clit. She snuggled against him, content.

 

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” Hermione asked after a moment, peering up at him out of the corner of her eye. He continued to rub lazy circles on her back.

 

“What?”

 

“Your desk,” she replied innocently.

 

“My desk?” He quirked a brow. Hermione giggled.

 

“Yes. Specifically, all the ways I’d love for you to take me on that desk.” She looked up at him once more, a smirk on her face.

 

Harry growled and immediately stood up, his hands gripping her arse. She locked her feet more tightly around his hips and squealed. He strode over to his desk and with a wave of his hand, everything was swept onto the floor. He laid her somewhat roughly on the hard wooden surface, and she hissed at the feeling of the cold wood on her flushed skin. Suddenly he was on his knees, his mouth on her, and in less than a minute she was screaming, coming all over his face.

 

He stood up and kissed her, his lips and chin dripping with her juices. She moaned at the taste of herself, a shot of desire coursing through her. Her nerves were screaming, and she was already dying to come again. That insatiable well of want was quickly rising within her after such a sudden and electrifying orgasm.

 

Harry pulled away and grinned.

 

“Is that what you’d been picturing, love?”

 

“That was one of my ideas, certainly.” She smiled back at him.

 

“Hmm, I wonder what the others were?” He asked. He reached down to grip her pussy in his palm, and she groaned, clunking her head back against the desk.

 

“Fuck, Harry, no more teasing! I can’t take any more teasing!” She whined as he rubbed her softly.

 

“As the lady wishes, then.” He smirked before slamming into her.

 

Hermione screeched as he hit that place deep inside her, a shockwave coursing through her at every stroke. He grabbed her ankles and forced her legs up, pressed together, making her feel even more full.

 

“You’re so tight and wet for me, Hermione.” He groaned as he continued the punishing pace he’d set for them. Just as she thought she was going to come again, he slowed down and placed her feet onto his shoulders. She arched into him, loving the new angle.

 

“Touch yourself for me, love,” He pleaded. He gripped her calves and watched adoringly as she tugged at her nipples, and rubbed her clit, slow and soft. He pulled out of her, sliding just the tip of his cock moving slowly in and out. It was torturous, too much sensation.

 

Her body felt like it was on fire, overheated and buzzing with the need to release.

 

“Harry, please, I need to come.” She could barely form the words, her mind had gone so totally blank.

 

“Then let me see you come, my love,” He said. He opened up her hips wider, her feet planted firmly on the desk, her hips pressing up to meet him. Her fingers flew across her clit and she was coming, screaming, sobbing with the intensity of it. Just as the last wave of her orgasm ran through her, she felt him begin to come, and it was almost too much — the feel of his cock hitting her so deeply, but it was delicious, all the same.

 

Her body hummed with relief and satisfaction as she felt the weight of his torso press in to her. Their lips found each others in their post-orgasmic haze, slowly and sloppily moving against each other. Her ears were ringing, and she could feel the blood pumping through her veins.

 

Alive. Alive. Alive.

 

She shivered and whined as Harry stood up and pulled out of her. He chuckled and shook his head, pulling himself together. He conjured a cloth and cleaned her up, re-snapping her teddy and helping her sit up on the desk. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close again, snuggling into his chest. He ran his hands along her and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

 

“Let’s go home love,” he whispered. She nodded sleepily.

 

“Home,” she agreed, and looked up at him with a smile.

 

***

They spent most of the following morning in bed, before getting up to go to the Weasley’s for Christmas dinner. There was a huge cheer as they walked in together, hand in hand.

 

Hermione reveled in all the little things she’d been longing for — his arm around the back of her chair at dinner, his fingers brushing against her arm. Sitting on his lap in the living room as all the children opened their presents. A sexually charged kiss under the mistletoe when no one was watching. A look shared from across the room, as they both remembered their morning in bed together.

 

It was perfect, better than she had dreamed.

 

That night, they returned once again to the graveyard, hand in hand. They stood before his parents graves remembering their love, remembering their sacrifice. Hermione conjured the white Christmas roses, and together they placed them delicately upon the stone.

 

But this Christmas, Harry did not feel sad, or lonely, or even a longing for his family as he had for so many years in the past. He put his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and pulled her close. As snow began to fall softly all around them, and the church beside them filled with the joyful sound of carols, Harry felt truly at peace.

 

This was the place where it had begun between them, truly alone in the world as they had been all those years ago. Wasn’t it fitting that they had come full circle, standing in the exact same place?

 

She was his family, this woman standing beside him. What more could he need?

 

He turned and pulled her into his arms, placed his forehead against hers. She sighed in contentment and leaned against him.

 

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” He whispered.

 

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” she said, a bright smile lighting up her face.

 

And as snow began to fall more swiftly, they shared their first kiss in the graveyard that had been the beginning of their journey all those years ago.

 

The first of many.

 

_Finis._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear everyone's comments! Thanks for reading!


End file.
